Hal Vivian was just out of his time; but a few days, and his—
Seven long years were out.
He was at that age in man when love partakes very strongly of the imaginative, and clothes the object of affection with an excellence and perfection which, though it be not always just, makes her whom he loves to him a beau ideal. Almost every youth creates in his mind a standard of perfect loveliness, and if he, perchance, meets with a face which presents some resemblance to the mental image he has formed, he at once proceeds to invest it with all the charms with which he has endowed the unreal. The maid is elected to the first place in his heart—she becomes his guiding influence—he busies himself by contemplating schemes of impossible delights for her, is anxious to be at her side whenever apart, and most loth, when with her, to tear himself from her.
No doubt a very considerable amount of mental deception is practised during this phase of youthful existence, and when marriage has bestowed upon the lovesick swain the object he has so ardently coveted, he perhaps finds that he has been gazing through, what he now considers, the wrong end of the telescope.
Harry Vivian was, however, like all youths of his age, in no condition to believe that the being he had made his representative angel could ever prove the reverse. He had always seen her mild and gentle, soft in manner, courteous in speech, amiable in expression, and exquisitely lovely in person. He could suppose no other side to the picture, and so, as she outwardly resembled an angel, he gave her credit for being inwardly a saint. His intimacy with her was slight, his opportunities of seeing her—save during the past year, when he had made them—had not been many; he had interchanged but few words with her, and they were of a very commonplace description. He had not hitherto thought of her, more than that she was a girl of rare and delicate beauty, whose features he should like to reproduce in some of the choice modellings of the precious metals entrusted to him, for it seemed to him that no artist, however marvellous his skill in delineating the female face divine, had ever succeeded in producing one so beautiful as her’s.
Love had, however, taken no part in this admiration; he had gazed upon her and thought of her as he would have done of the best efforts of the greatest masters of art—“a thing of beauty,” but animated with life. Her sudden appearance at the window, the golden sunbeams falling on her face, her hair, her light dress, bringing her beauty out in strong relief from the dark chamber in which she stood, altered at one stroke the condition of his feelings.
Passion sprang into life simultaneously with the glance he turned upon her—it intermingled with his admiration, and became love.
He was not conscious of the change wrought within him when he instinctively surmised that trouble and trial hovered over her, and that he should take an active part in endeavouring to avert it. He had not a notion of it even when seated with Mr. Harper, his uncle, discoursing on the position of the Wilton family, he employed himself devising how the all but orphaned child of their skilled workman might be rescued from destitution.
Here, in his chamber, alone in deep meditation and self-examination, it flashed through his mind. A sudden glow of heat pervaded his frame, and he sprang to his feet impulsively—a strange tremor thrilled through him—a feeling of apprehension crept over him—and a species of sadness oppressed him; wherefore, he could not comprehend. Here was food for contemplation, indeed; and he resumed his seat to pursue this new subject through its many ramifications until he should arrive at some kind of ultimate result.
One fact followed from this discovery made by him. Up to this moment he had been, in his knowledge of the world, a mere boy. He was, at a moment, transformed into a man.
He had “something to love,” and the affection was not of the same nature as that entertained for kith or kin. He had taken up a responsibility, and at once there was something to live for, work for, seek for, and to win. Fame, wealth, honour, were now worth striving to gain, because there was one, whose approbation he coveted, to share the wealth and honour to be secured by persevering energy and untiring ardour.